


Slow Dancing in the Dark

by cosmicregrets



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Happy Ending, I dont know how to tag, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, childhood best friends to strangers, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29681178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicregrets/pseuds/cosmicregrets
Summary: Now they were just strangers again, but this time with memories.





	Slow Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii, I kinda have no clue what I'm writing or if I'll even really continue, but I hope you enjoy!!! The title just kinda happened cause I was listening to music when deciding what to title this... I also have no idea how to post on this website but it's a learning process. Also I didn't edit this cause I'm lazy and ik it's probably shit but whatever 
> 
> Aru's name is pronounced Ah-roo btw
> 
> I hope you like it though :)

With a groan the lanky 24-year-old lifted himself off of his bed, silently cursing himself for agreeing to go out tonight. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head and looking at his surroundings once more. The apartment is empty, excluding the bed he was laying on and a shitty chair in the corner of the room. He knew he’d have to go shopping soon, and he was already full of ideas. A tired ache settles into his bones as he walked over to the bathroom. 

He splashed water onto his face before looking up at his reflection and muttering, “Dumbass.”

Staring at his reflection, all he could see were the light eyebags that were already starting to form. See, he’d just gotten off of an 8 hour flight from London to New York and decided it would be a good idea to meet new people. Like he said, dumbass. 

The young man brushed his curls back from his face before bending down to unpack his suitcase. As he sifted through his expansive collection of button-ups, his phone lit up with a text.

‘Meeting at Paddy Reilly’s Music Bar see u soon :)’

He briefly wonders to himself if it’s too late to cancel. The plan was to meet at 9 and it’s only 8 pm. There’s probably a couple other people coming too, so he wouldn’t be exactly ditching his friend, would he? Although he tried to justify bailing, he knew he would go anyway, whether or not he was exhausted. 

After deciding on a dark floral button down and simple black pants, he called an Uber and quickly changed before walking out of his barren apartment. He strolled down the long hallway and waited for the elevator to arrive. He whipped out his phone and responded to his family’s texts, barely even noticing the rising clamor a few doors down the hallway. 

“I’M JUST GOING TO PICK HIM UP, I’LL BE BACK IN AN HOUR,” yelled a short brunette before slamming the door, startling the young man by the elevator. 

With a start, he looked up at her in shock. They make eye contact and she chuckles awkwardly before mumbling, “Sorry. Just roommate fights, you know how it goes.”

He smiles back understandingly saying, “Don’t worry about it. Had my fair share of those.”

She makes her way to stand next to him in front of the elevator, glancing at him warily. 

“Are you new here? Sorry if I’m being too forward, I just don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she questions as they wait for the elevator together.

“Actually got here a few hours ago,” he answers, loosely gesturing to their surroundings. He pauses a quick beat before adding, “Don’t be so sorry.”

“Force of habit,” she says, breathing out a laugh. “Well, hi, I’m Aru. Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m guessing by the accent that you’re not from around here?” She dons a terrible British accent as she adds, “London, perhaps?”

The elevator chimes just as she finishes, and the young man’s eyes crinkle in suppressed laughter as they enter the elevator. He presses the button for the ground floor before replying, “That might’ve been the greatest British accent I’ve ever heard.”

“Is that right?” she continues, using a shitty Cockney accent this time. “I’m good at the accent, am I, mate?”

They both look at each other before bursting out into laughter. From any stranger’s perspective, they’d seem like childhood best friends. Something about Aru’s immediate friendliness put the young man’s nerves at ease and made him forget about his looming exhaustion. 

Still beaming, Aru asks as they walk out of the elevator, “Any way I can help show you around the always wonderful Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Promise you’ll do more accents?” he jokes, a teasing smile lighting up his face. They stand near the doors, preparing for their inevitable divergence.

“Very funny,” she rolls her eyes back at him. “But seriously, where are you headed?”

He checks his phone before saying, “Paddy Reilly’s Music Bar, do you know it?”

“Yes, of course! I’m actually heading there, too!” she exclaims, surprise lighting up her eyes.

“What a coincidence. I better get some more of those accents as promised,” he says, slightly sticking his tongue out and smiling like a child. 

“Of course, milord. All part of the Aru-tourist-experience,” she plays along, bowing elaborately. “Want me to get a cab or do you want to try out the subway for the first time, out-of-towner?”

“Tempting as that is, I called an Uber already,” the young man says, waving his phone screen. “It should be here in a few seconds.”

“Okay, Mr. Prepared. We’ll go in your Uber,” she states before wrapping her fingers around his elbow and dragging him out of the hotel. Taking a deep breath, she sighs, “Smell that?”

He takes a tentative sniff before asking, “Is that dog shit?”

“Shut up, smartass. That, my new friend, is the smell of New York City. A smell you’ll grow to love,” she recites, punching his arm playfully. She points over at a car that just pulled up to the curb, “Is that your Uber?”

“Yeah, it is,” he replies, checking his phone before walking over to the Honda Civic. “So I’ll grow to love the smell of dog shit?” he adds. Aru throws her head back in laughter and he couldn’t help but admire the pure unfiltered happiness that exuded from her. 

Conversation continues to flow between the duo as they go to the bar. The two weren’t your average strangers; they fit together like a key in a lock. Even so, the young man still finds himself looking out the window and marveling at the massive life that exists in this city. It definitely isn’t his first time in New York, but it is his first time looking at it like his future home. He felt comfortable in bustling city life although he sometimes missed the comfortable loneliness of his small hometown. However, something about being in a large city helps him keep his trivial worries from overtaking his every thought. The compactness of cities made him forget how endless the world is, almost as if it’s his own customizable concrete prison. 

He snapped out of his thoughts before returning to Aru’s monologue about the city and its beautiful and not-so-beautiful sights. 

The car rolls to a stop in front of a small brick building. A few vintage posters adorn the side of the building under the sign that read “Paddy Reilly’s” in ornate gold lettering. 

“So why Paddy Reilly’s?” Aru asks as she closes the car door.

Brushing down his now-slightly-crumpled shirt, the young man answers, “A friend chose it. I’m supposed to meet a few new people, I think. How about you, what brings you to this… lively establishment on a Monday evening?”

“Roommate things, as always. He’s playing tonight, his shift ends in a bit so I’m here to pick him up,” she explains as they cross the street to the bar. “You might like his music, he’s fantastic. I’d call him a genius but he’s too humble for that kind of shit.”

“What’s his name? Maybe I’ve heard of him,” he remarks as they arrive in front of the door. He pulls it open, gesturing for Aru to enter in front of him.

“I doubt it. But speaking of names, I can’t believe I still haven’t gotten yours,” she says in a light accusatory tone as light chattering and guitar strumming enters their ears. 

“I knew I was forgetting something,” the young man jokes, a charming awkwardness oozing from his words. “I’m--”

“HARRY!” a voice thunders from their right. The two turn their heads to see a brunette man walking towards them with outstretched hands.

“Niall!” Harry exclaims, smiling profusely. “It’s been too long.” 

The two men embrace jovially, laughing as Niall says, “Or not long enough, some could argue.”

As they part, Aru smiles awkwardly again, asking, “So, Harry?”

Harry nods his head slightly affirming, “Yeah, Harry. And this is Niall, a colleague and old friend. Niall, this is Aru, she lives in my flat.”

“Calling it a flat, how exotic,” Aru jokes before reaching out a hand for Niall to shake. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Niall takes her hand, noting, “Yes, exotic. The perfect way to describe Styles.” The three snicker slightly, feeling much more at ease. A beat of awkward silence passes, and Harry finally hears a second of the music, recognizing the chords and voice from somewhere. Rather than looking around for the musician, he decides to pay attention to the people in front of him.

“We’re sitting close to the live music, Harry. We actually know him, too,” Niall says, vaguely gesturing in the wrong direction. “Aru, feel free to join us.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer, I’m here for the musician anyways,” Aru replies with a warm smile. “I’m his roommate.”

The two continue their conversation about the artist as Harry mindlessly follows them, focusing on the decorations of the bar. Harry’s gaze dances over the bar, looking at the bartenders and drinks they were making.

“Calling out for somebody to hold on tight,” croons the singer, backed by an acoustic guitar. The voice pierces Harry’s mindless haze, and his eyes widen, immediately searching for the musician. Skirting around the room, his eyes finally fixate on him. He stops in his tracks, staring at the man he hadn’t seen in two years.

“You’ll never feel like you’re alone,” sings the perfect stranger before looking up from his guitar. He strums once more before finishing the song, “I’ll make this feel like home.” The musician’s soft eyes scan over the crowd before stopping at Harry’s.

The two lock eyes as the last note leaves the man’s mouth and the bar erupts in cheers. Staring at his distant blue eyes, all Harry can think about is how full of love the same eyes looked as the same words were sung to him all those years ago.

And so there the two strangers froze, held captive by their memories.


End file.
